fiction

One is almost tempted to say... at last I can almost see a bond. But that will never be, for a bond does not really exist at all: it is a most convenient fiction which, as we have seen, is convenient both to experimental and theoretical chemists.

Sin__ cold, calculating, and dangerous. She scares the shit outta me. I wouldn__ want to meet her in a dark alley and that__ the truth. Compared to her, you__e a damned Sun angel.___ou just don__ know her,_ Cass said in a soft voice, her mouth curving the slightest bit. __he__ really very sweet.___ure,_ Nick scoffed. __weet as sugar. Let__ get back to why you won__ let me put my hands on you.

I have read that long ago there was a land of glass castles that sank beneath the sea. It was not called Atlantis, but Lyonesse. This happened before history and across the ocean, but when I was little I wondered about that place, how it could be so beautiful and so lost. Sometimes it seemed that the land around my New England home was like that flooded country, with mud where the streets of gold should be and mayflies swarming where there should be lovely fishes, but here and there a shard of crystal to call the heart to beauty. --"Wetlands," in Phoebe.

It's from the newspapers that people I know - relatives and co-workers - have got the idea that crosswords are a prophylactic against Alzheimer's. Newspapers are of course also the place where crosswords (and now sudokus) are most readily available, so the association is presumably good for circulation.

Bearing witness from the sides of the room, ten or more lepers shouted at the bizarre scene, __iable! Diable!_ And then chants of some sort, or prayers, followed by more shouts of __iable!_ They were hurling these words at Moreau like stones.

It__ been a long time since they__ been together, but as close as they were physically, they__ never been so far apart in every other way.

My life is kinda like a story that if I told you about it, you probably wouldn't believe. It would seem like fiction. That's me.

How have people come to be taken in by The Phenomenon of Man? We must not underestimate the size of the market for works of this kind [pseudoscience/'woo'], for philosophy-fiction. Just as compulsory primary education created a market catered for by cheap dailies and weeklies, so the spread of secondary and latterly tertiary education has created a large population of people, often with well-developed literary and scholarly tastes, who have been educated far beyond their capacity to undertake analytical thought.

A tightrope walker uncertain if he could make it to the other side probably would not. A race car driver wondering if he was taking a turn too fast was likely to lose control. If a man feared death, whether his own or the taking of another's, death would surely come calling.

With out freedom nothing has value, Free agency is the only true key to happiness.

Not much of a childhood, Cass. When did you get to play?__ith a frown, she said, __ played.___ou took apart your robot dog.

A couple hours went by, and the storm began to turn back to the sea. The dark clouds rolled away, leaving white, fluffy ones in their place. We were safe, and the rock in the distance was still there. We stepped out of the car and walked over to the rock, noticing the families of seals were back again. The seals were strong and ready to make it through any storm that would fall their way. My parents_ love was still there; that is what love means. I envy that love, and I hoped to find it someday... and I did.

Father, what are you to do now?__riton__ sneer grew scarier. __he broke the law._ turning away from the terrified faces of his daughters. __he must die.

Novel is a particular form of narrative./ And narrative is a phenomenon which extends considerably beyond the scope of literature; it is one of the essential constituents of our understanding of reality. From the time we begin to understand language until our death, we are perpetually surrounded by narratives, first of all in our family, then at school, then through our encounters with people and reading. - The Novel as Research. (1968)

He was a lawyer and he knew that it would be best to trust his journalist friend, but not to tell his own lawyer

Noriega wound up like a baseball pitcher on top of the bed and hurled the small gun, but was low and outside for a ball. His tight-fitting house dress was bunched up high on his chubby thighs, exposing olive drab underwear.I see London, I see France, I see a crazy dictator__ underpants!Chase__ thoughts raced.

My breath is halted, like grasping for air after crying far too long and hard. It is like a hiccup, with a shivering sharpness of nerves. It is like icicles running down your spine or aluminum in your mouth, an eerie amount of emotions that cannot compare to the actual feelings you__e managed to live through. I just watched you die, I say to myself silently.

My motto? Don__ trust someone who is just as cagey as yourself." "What kind of detective are you?_ __ lousy one and proud of it. I write, remember?_ She looked down at her hand & laughed. __erretta doesn__ make lighters._ "Why I was a writer! My life revolved around fiction. I could make something up""She looked down at her hand & laughed. __erretta doesn__ make lighters._ "So they're not Tolstoy, they're a little shorter...Okay, okay a lot. Go ahead, read my mystery series anyway." "A detective has their boundaries especially me. So mine shifted occasionally...okay a lot" __eat it, Buster. My temper and this mace have a hair trigger.___nterference could be lethal._ I got right up in his face, hissing, __on__ push me, I__ hormonal.__'m not really a lousy detective, just rough around the edges.